Tea and Sympathy
by Y St. Ace
Summary: What is the difference between pity and sympathy? It depends who is offering it...and who it is offered to. A Sanji and Nami vignette


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A/N: It's my first Sanji/Nami fic, so be gentle. No tang-y ness here. Sorry. All I can write is good old talking and inner monologues and repressed feelings and ANGST. Glorious angst and the near criminal abuse of italics.

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Tea and Sympathy

Nami muttered under her breath. Her muttering continued as she stood up, went to the door, and threw it open. It grew from a mutter, to a quiet cursing, to a normal volume, until she was standing at the railing screaming, "Please please _please please be QUIET_!"

Nico was reading and Zoro was snoring. She didn't understand how they could stand the noise that Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp were making. 

"Sorry," Luffy said quickly. He had no idea what he was sorry for. When Nami was mad, Luffy was sorry. It was a self-preservation reflex.

Sanji was at her elbow. "Are they bothering you?" 

"Yes, they're bothering me!" Nami exclaimed as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. "How am I supposed to chart where we've been if they're screaming like a bunch of banshees?"

The cook glared at the trio. Nami saw the storm cloud forming at his brow – and Sanji didn't even have a Clima Tact.

"I'll take care of it," he promised darkly.

"Do that." Nami stalked back to her room and slammed the door behind her, making it abundantly clear that she was not to be disturbed. Sanji's voice carried through the heavy door and she smiled to herself. It was nice to have unquestioning and reliable back-up.

The charts on the desk begged to be finished, but she couldn't bring herself to do them. Not today. She wanted to curl under a blanket, turn her back to the door, and sleep until next week – but she had to pretend that today was a normal day.

It wasn't pretending, she reminded herself. Today _was_ like any other day.

Nami found herself wishing that Vivi were still on the ship. Robin's presence was reassuring; it was nice to have a practical, serious head in the thick of all the testosterone. But she wasn't Vivi, who could reassure Nami just by sitting in the same room.

There was a knock at the door. Nami knew the rap too well and glanced at the clock. Yes, it was time for the mid-afternoon, not quite tea-time snack of love. Sanji's words, not hers. "Come in."

"Good afternoooooon, Nami-swan." Sanji sang her name as he stepped into the room. He balanced a glorious confection on a tray. "I brought you a mid-afternoon, not quite tea-time snack of love."

"Just put it on the…" Nami got an eyeful of this afternoon's offering of love.

"Snack" was much too informal a word for what Sanji had brought her this afternoon. It was a slice of double layered chocolate cake. Strawberries nestled in the moist crumbly cake which was covered in the thick, creamy frosting. A dollop of whipped cream decorated the top and there was an artful heart drawn with chocolate syrup in the cocoa powder that dusted the edge of the plate.

It seemed a shame to eat something that beautiful, but Nami knew he wasn't going to leave until she tasted it and made the appropriate coo of appreciation. She picked up the fork. It slid through the moist layers easily. He watched her as she put the first bite in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

"This is really good," she said with surprise.

"Thank you." Sanji's happy poker face stayed put, but he immediately wondered why she was surprised. Had his previous creations been below her standards? Had Nami been forcing a false smile to save his feelings when she was really gagging inside?

"It's really, really..." It was dark as sin and sweet as love. Death by chocolate was the sweetest way to die, Nami mused. "It's really great," she said emphatically. 

Relief flowed through him.

"Why the special effort?" she asked.

"It's always a special effort for you, Nami-san – "

"Strawberries. Chocolate. Whip cream. My three favorite things. So why the special effort, Sanji-kun?" The repeated question brooked no nonsense.

"I thought you deserved, ah, extra attention." Sanji waited for the reprimand. What would she think now that she knew this was what he was capable of when it came to desserts? Would she despise him for serving her sub-par fare after all these months at sea? A future full of Nami-hate loomed in his mind. He waited patiently for his divine judgement, knowing that whatever her decision was he deserved it and more.

"'Extra attention'?" Nami asked before taking another bite of the glorious cake.

"Because of today," he said vaguely, still waiting for his divine judgement.

"What do you know about today?" she asked quietly.

Sanji was getting increasingly nervous. He pulled out a cigarette, and stuck it in his mouth. He wouldn't dream of lighting it in Nami's room of course, but it comforted him. Then he looked at the picture frame on her cluttered desk.

The fork clattered on the floor. Shock warred with anger on Nami's face and he was pinned in place.

"Your sister didn't tell you," he said finally.

When the heck had he had time to talk to Nojiko? Nami swore at her foster sister then fumed aloud. "What did she say?" 

"She told us – "

"And now it's _us_!" Nami cried. Her heart crawled up into her throat. People weren't supposed to know. Once people knew history, knew the past, it made things so much more difficult. She didn't want anyone's pity.

But, Nami thought ruefully, she'd stopped that line of thought months ago. There wasn't any reason for her to hide who she was; she was officially a member of the Straw Hat Pirates. She should accept anything her friends gave her, even pity.

Sanji watched as Nami's face softened to something resembling resignation.

"So all of you know about today? About…" Nami's eyes slipped to the picture.

"Not everyone," Sanji said gently. "Luffy walked off before Nojiko began. He said he didn't care about the past."

Nami smiled faintly at the description of a typical act of the captain. It encouraged Sanji to continue his story.

"Zoro fell asleep. So only Usopp and I heard what your sister had to say."

"Tell me what you know." 

He struggled for the right thing to say. "Your mother was killed." 

Nami pointed to the cushion next to her. "Sit down." 

Sanji did as he was told, gingerly taking a place next to her.

"I want you to tell me what Nojiko told you. I want to hear it in your words."

Sanji gathered his thoughts and his resolve. The thought of softening the details never crossed his mind; friends didn't lie. So he carefully confessed a tale that Nami knew well – a story about hand-me-down clothes, sudden rainstorms, dinner for three, a desperate, bone-crushing hug, and last words that were "I love you."

Nami blinked back the tears, refusing to fall apart, and praying that Sanji wouldn't try and comfort her. If he consoled her now, she would crumble to pieces in his hands. 

Sanji knew this. He knew that all he had to do was take her hand…

But he didn't want to take her in vulnerability and sadness. Some great romances, the kinds that were immortalized in plays and books, started in this manner, but he didn't want his to begin like that way. He didn't want the bloom of their love, something he dreamed about each night, to be watered with Nami's tears. 

They sat in silence for sometime before Nami asked, "So that's when Nojiko told you when it happened?"

Sanji shook his head. "During the celebration, I talked with your sister again. She told me a little more and I asked her a few questions – including about today."

"But how did you remember? You didn't write it down, did you?" Nami momentarily forgot her heartache at the preposterous thought of Sanji jotting this date down in a daily planner. 

"Ah. No. It stayed in my head. I remembered it."

She persisted with her examination. "But _why_ did you remember?" 

"It seemed important."

"Why would my business be important to you?"

A look of astonishment passed over the cook's face; a look that said _Isn't it obvious? Because it's you. _

That didn't wash with her. People didn't remember things just _because_. There had to be a motive. She regarded him suspiciously. What did he want from her?

Then she remembered that friends didn't have to have reasons.

She didn't know what to say. Her gaze slid to the plate in her hands and the half-eaten dessert on it. 

"Full?" he asked.

She nodded. "It was really good cake, but I don't think I can finish it. I hope you don't mind." 

Sanji slid back into his customary role with ease. "Of course I don't mind. There's always more where that came from." The storm cloud returned. "Assuming I can keep it hidden from that damn gomu. Shall I take your plate for you?" 

"If you would. And Sanji-kun? You won't…" She let the sentence trail off.

Sanji nodded. "My lips are sealed. You have my word." 

Nami repeated the words to herself. She had his word? No one gave her anything; she always had to take it. 

She smiled. But that was before she'd joined the Straw Hat Pirates. "Thank you," she said softly.

He took the plate and fork from her hands. "Anytime you want another one, you need only ask and – "

She placed her hand on his arm. "Thank you for remembering, Sanji-kun."

Hand on his arm! She said "thank you''! He managed a shaky "You're welcome" in return.

"Oh, and Sanji-kun?" 

"Yes, Nami-swan?" he trilled happily.

"Could you make sure they keep the noise level below a dull roar?"

"Certainly, Nami-swan."

He shut the door behind him carefully. Nami went to her desk and sat down to her charts. It was time to get started on her promise – to make a map of the world.

For Bellemere-san. 


End file.
